My Favorite part
by Angevar
Summary: Guy finally gets some time to just lie down and enjoy himself with his favorite kind of sleeping in. Shounen ai, Yaoi, whatever you wanna call it. Matthew X Guy. Warning: High Sap Content.


A/N: QuickEdit gave me absolute hell with this, so by teh time it was finally loaded properly and ready for posting, it's been over a week sinceI wrote the ding-bat. Ah well, I guess it's okay since I get to upload on my Birthday, but still... (growls at QuickEdit)

Uh… nothing really inspired this one actually. It was all written in the space of about three hours (yeah, I know, I'm a real slow writer) while listening to the song 'Displaced' by Azure Ray (beautiful song) while thinking about how nice it is to sleep in on weekend mornings. Not pre-conceived at all and not really meant to mean anything. Halfway through I decided to write it as the 'sex before love' approach (at least from Matthew's side as far as I know) so, yeah… oh, and it takes place in some inn sometime after Chapter 21 (meaning you've gotten Rath back).

WARNINGS: Spoilers in general (I'm not sure what size they count as, but fairly big ones). If you haven't played past Chapter 16x: The Port of Badon, then you may not appreciate some things mentioned here. Also, there _is_ yaoi (aka: slash, shounen-ai, male x male sex) but it's not too explicitly described (ie: not too graphic. I'm not a smut writer) so I personally wouldn't call it even much more than very mild lime (4 or 5 on a scale of 1 to 10; 1platonic, 10smut) so if you have a problem with homosexuals, or the pairing of Matthew/Guy in particular, I suggest you leave as I don't much enjoy pointless idiotic flames (though a lot of people find them insanely hilarious, I just get peeved at flamer stupidity and my faith in human intelligence goes down the drain). Normally I'd put this at PG-16 or so, so I'll put it at 'T'.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything more than one cartridge of Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken, the computer I'm typing this on (I named him Xohar) and a few bits of fanart that I've drawn for the game on various occasions (which hasn't been that much, I do more FFVII and KH fanart these days… I'll have to fix that).

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My Favorite Part

By Angevar

(Thursday, March 24, 2005)

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It's so nice, just lying here like this _all morning_. It's the most enjoyable thing I ever get to do and I savor every single chance I get at it.

Hello, my name is Guy. I'm in a bed that's not my own, and I have a substantial hunk of sandy-blonde haired thief draped across my stomach with his arms around my waist and snoring lightly. And I love it.

I'm not entirely sure when I started loving these mornings after we'd been together, but today's a really good one. We're at a nice inn and we don't even have to think of getting up until mid-morning (Hector and Sain's whining can drive anyone to submission, even that damned slave-driver of a tactician) so I have all the time in the world to do my favorite type of sleeping in.

I yawn, stretching my one arm that isn't pinned beneath Matthew's sleeping form. I don't want to wake him up, he almost always leaves right after he does and I hate that. I wish that he'd just stay there with me for a while after, but I guess he doesn't want to risk getting caught red-handed with me like this. Personally, I couldn't care less whether the whole damn army disowns us if they find out, but I highly doubt that's the reaction we'd get (I mean c'mon, Raven and Lucius are a lot worse than we are, and they barely even bother to hide it!).

A couple bones in the general region of my shoulder crick as my muscles stretch, getting out the soreness of last night (Matthew is fairly rough after all) as well as the tiredness from the battle yesterday. I frown at the recollection as I settle back into the warmth between Matthew and the bed sheets; it was definitely one of the most miserable battles I've been in since I've joined this insane troop. There were _hordes_ of lance-toting cavaliers and more knights than I think I've seen in the past six months combined, which is saying quite a bit.

I sigh through my nose as I close my eyes, letting the weak morning sunlight coming through the window wash over my lower torso, compounding my comfort levels some more as I think back over the events of yesterday. I almost got turned into a Guy-kebab about twelve times in the space of a few hours and almost all of those attempts were foiled by Matthew coming in and saving my neck with his damn daggers (well, not really damn because I owe the stupid things my life but, yeah…). Come to think of it… I think the only time he didn't manage to save me from getting killed was with that damned Paladin. I got hit in the shoulder by his lance after managing to dodge twice before Raven and Hector came in with their axes (ever since Raven used that Hero's Crest he's taken quite a liking to his new axe… I'll have to talk to Lucius about putting it somewhere safe) and Rath managed to swing me up and out of there before I really did get turned into lance fodder.

At that point, the battle was pretty much over I guess. I'm not sure, I was on the verge of blacking out at that point (from blood loss I guess) but I remember Rath dropping me off with Serra. I think she had to use a Heal staff twice on me before the thing broke and she had to go get another one.

After that Matthew came looking for me. I think that was _the_ most scared I've ever seen him since I met the bastard. When he found me sitting near Merlinus's tent (where Rath had dropped me off) he just walked up to me, dropped down and hugged me, breathing hard, like he had been running a marathon and telling me he had been worried as fuck about me. And I, being the ingeniously eloquent and skillful man that I am, just kind of sat there, too tired to really hug him back or anything.

I blink as a strange, slightly unsettling thought crosses my mind. That was perhaps the first time Matthew had even dared to show that much… affection towards me in public. Hell, it was practically only the first or second time I've ever gotten an actual, loving type hug from him. It's kind of sad, if you think about it.

I look down at his head resting on my chest; sandy blonde, almost dark gold hair obscuring my vision a bit, breathing so soft and evenly it's hard to hear him if you're not listening, eyes closed, mouth open just a little bit. I wonder just how much he really cares for me as I brush a few fingers through his hair.

We started sleeping together like this almost by accident, the night after we got back to Badon from Valor, after so many of the most miserable things ever to happen had happened. We almost lost so many people in the battle that night I hardly ever care to remember it (with yesterday's fight, it's one of the single worst battles I've ever had the misery of fighting in). Everyone was so relieved to have gotten out of that fight alive that I can count on the fingers of one hand how many people didn't make an attempt to get drunk that night.

Matthew had been miserable that night. I know for a fact that he loved Leila a lot (and I hated her bitterly for a long time because of that fact, even after she was dead) and that her death was having the worst possible effects on him now that he had time to mourn a little. He had been a wreck when I sat down next to him at the bar. The barkeep told me he had already downed four shots of beer, so I was surprised he was being so quiet but I just sat down silently next to him anyways. I guess something in me said he just needed a bit of company to tell him he wasn't quite alone right then and I guess it helped.

We just sat pretty much silently next to each other for what must have been hours, he didn't even speak to order more drinks, just held up his hand and pushed the empty mug and a few coins at the barkeep to get a refill. Sometime after his eighth drink (I have infinite respect for his alcohol capacity) he just spoke randomly out of thin air; his voice wasn't even slurred a bit.

"This world is so messed up…" he spoke pretty softly for someone with an inhuman amount of alcohol in his system. I didn't really know what to say but I didn't want to stay quiet, so I just said whatever came off the top of my head.

"It's been that way for a while."

"Hmm…" he seemed to contemplate his half empty ninth shot before putting the mug to his mouth and swallowing the rest of it, then turning around on the barstool and getting up to head slowly towards the stairs. Whatever told me to sit down next to him told me to follow him as well and I continued listening to it.

We went up to the second floor; I don't think Matthew noticed me until we were outside his room. He just looked up at me and stared for a few minutes, probably wondering why I was there in the first place before he just grabbed my hand, pushed me through the door (following after and closing and bolting it behind him) and shoved me up against the wall, grabbing both my wrists and holding them above my head.

It was pretty strange and surreal; I kept on thinking it felt like a really weird dream. He just held me there like that, against the wall for what couldn't have been more than a few minutes, face about four or five inches away from mine, just looking at me. I'm fairly certain he must have been a little drunk at least, but in any case, by some miracle of Saint Elimine, I didn't squeak or yelp at his actions, I just looked right back at him.

I wonder sometimes what would have happened if I had spoken, said something (even though I couldn't have said anything if I'd tried for lack of subject matter) or just struggled even a little bit when he was holding me then. Would he have leaned in and kissed me the way he did, if at all? Would he have been so careful and cautious about it? Would he have lessened his grip on me a little bit and pulled me over to his bed afterwards, all the while not speaking a single word?

Come to think of it, I didn't speak either.

"I wonder if you know how much I love you?" I ask, more to myself than to the soundly sleeping figure on my chest. I smile ruefully at the thought. We both know that this… relationship wasn't based on anything remotely romantic (much though I may wish otherwise) but more as a way for Matthew to keep from grieving himself to an early grave, and I was a willing participant; full knowing he was using me to block himself off from it. I didn't really care too much about the consequences at that point; I just wanted to see him stop hurting so much.

I think about that for a few moments as I continue watching him sleep. One would usually think he'd be the protective one out of the two of us, strange that I'd feel that way towards the man who made a good deal of my time in the army before that point a fair imitation of hell. I myself really don't know why I didn't refuse him that night, I'm sure that if I had even pulled away just a little he would have stopped right then and there and never even asked me to continue. Once again, I think I just wanted to see him safe and not hurting so terribly much anymore.

After that we stayed together every night, even if we didn't have the energy for sex at the end of the day. Matthew swapped with Rath to be my tent mate so as not to draw too much suspicion by not sleeping in his own tent too much of the time. Rath gave him an odd look when he made the request, but he never asked questions, one thing I'm very grateful to him for.

Matthew's stirring now. I pout a bit and notice that the sun from the window is shining right into his eyes; it must be pretty late in the morning after all I suppose.

The sandy haired thief grumbles lightly in his half awakened state, lifting his head off of my chest to glare in the direction of the window before scooting up towards my face and laying his head back down on my shoulder, facing away from the window, muscular arms still wrapped with fair security around my torso. I smile to myself and tilt my head to sigh into his hair.

"You're not going to run off on me like you usually do?" I ask, looking down at his face, letting my arms wrap around him in a similar fashion to his around me.

"Why should I?" he replies, not opening his eyes and burying his nose in the crook of my shoulder.

"You're not afraid of being caught red-handed in here like this?" I say lazily, closing my eyes almost all the way.

"Not anymore," Matthew murmurs just barely above my level of hearing. I blink slowly, tilting my head in light puzzlement as he opens his eyes to look directly at me.

"What do you mean, 'not anymore'?" I ask sleepily, all the tiredness in my body willing me to go back to sleep but my mind wants to wait just a bit longer. I've always loved his eyes, even that first time I met him when I was starving and he saved my life, I couldn't help but wonder how many people had eyes the color of gold.

"I mean I finally realized something," he says, staring at me with more intensity than most people who've just woken up can usually muster; but then, Matthew's always been used to waking up fast. "I realized yesterday that I don't want to have to worry about you like that again… and," he hesitates, glancing down for a moment before looking back up at me. "I don't want to be here if you're not."

I'm silent for a few moments as the words weave their way around my increasingly sleepy brain, a feeling of incredible, glowing warmth washing right through me when their meaning and significance starts to seep in. I lean down towards him for a second and kiss him, resting my forehead against his as I break off from the brief contact, smiling at him as I adjust my position next to him in the bed so our eyes are almost perfectly level.

"Neither do I," I say.

He smiles one of those rare, genuine, non-smirky smiles at me, the kind that only ever happen once in a blue moon and (I'm proud to say) only ever for me, and pulls me towards him as he kisses me; much deeper than my brief, relatively chaste touching of lips, wrapping his arms behind my neck as he buries his tongue in my mouth. I kiss back, moving my mouth against his in almost perfect sync as he pulls me further over so I'm resting mostly on his chest, almost like how he falls asleep on me almost every night.

As he finally slows down and pulls out of the kiss I lay on top of him and sigh contentedly, my brain finally allowing the rest of me to give in to my desires and drift comfortably back towards the realm of sleep, mumbling a very contented "I love you," at the man who's holding me as I lose consciousness.

I'm almost totally asleep, but still awake enough to hear the reply, "I love you too."

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A/N: I couldn't possibly write anything without a bit of fluff if I tried.

Brigs suffers a mild coughing fit in which can be heard the words 'not true' and 'Fly'.

…be glad I misplaced my coffee pot or else you'd be in for it.

So, please hit the little review button on your way out. Tell me if I wasted three hours of my life or not.

(Note to an anonymous reviewer for my last FE one-shot: Yeah, I guess just one week really was a bit quick. And if Matthew's hair isn't blonde, then whet the hell do _you_ call it?)


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